


i was just coasting till we met

by mumblingmaria



Category: Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Bar fights, Drinking, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-04
Updated: 2018-05-04
Packaged: 2019-05-01 23:41:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14531925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mumblingmaria/pseuds/mumblingmaria
Summary: Kanan always struggled to let go of his past. Whether it was when he was living on the Ghost with a family who loves him or when he was drinking to forget where he had been. The difference was the bounce back to the present.





	i was just coasting till we met

**Author's Note:**

  * For [inconocible](https://archiveofourown.org/users/inconocible/gifts).



> Happy Star Wars Day!
> 
> This was so much fun to work on. I haven't done an exchange in a long time and this was a perfect one to get back into it. 
> 
> So, my dear inconocible, you were a great giftee to have. I loved reading everything you gave me in response to my questions, I loved the songs you recommended, and I loved your overall enthusiasm. I really lucked out being paired with you. I hope you like what I came up with. 
> 
> May the Force be with you.

“You gotta raise your blade up a lot faster than that!” Kanan said. His lightsaber stopped just in front of his padawan’s nose once he finished offering the advice. Ezra groaned and belatedly lifted his blade to push the one at his face away. “That’s the third time today you let me do that.”

“Hey, I’m just getting started,” Ezra responded. He took four steps away, moving back to the middle of the _Ghost_ ’s cargo hold, and got back into the starting position. “I’m just learning your moves. I’ll get you this time.”

Kanan rolled his eyes at the cocky response but moved to get ready to start again. Overhead on the catwalk, Hera appeared. She leaned against the railing, smiling down at the pair. Kanan winked up at her before getting into the starting position. Ezra glanced over his shoulder and looked back with fierce determination on his face. 

“Let’s go,” Kanan said. 

He lunged forward as Ezra whipped his blade around to fend him off. They worked together, wordlessly building a new sequence to move through. Gone were the days when Kanan would tell Ezra what move to do next; now Ezra could just read his body language, look for the tells, and block the next strike. He had grown in his use with a lightsaber, they both had. 

Once they were comfortable with it, they then each worked to find a way to stump the other. This was always where Kanan got the upper hand. Ezra was good—he was amazing—but he didn’t have the years of training and experience in fights that Kanan had. In and out of the Temple. Ezra was still learning how to improvise in these training sessions.

Today, however, with Hera as their audience, Ezra’s focus was shining through. He wanted to impress Hera, show her how far he’s come. Kanan smiled as he parried the blade coming for his shoulder. 

Back and forth they moved through the cargo hold. Strikes followed by parries, on and on. They were both sweating now, this round pushing them further than the three before. Kanan was glad that he had stripped down to his black undershirt. Ezra had even stripped the top of this coveralls, now tied around his waist. How long had they been at this now?

Coming out of his thoughts, having mentally wandered away for almost too long, Kanan caught the moment Ezra got the upper hand. Kanan stumbled back as Ezra made a wide slash down in front of him. Regaining his balance, he ran forward. His every movement was being studied but he wasn’t worried. He had been in worse situations and come out on top. Plus, he had taught the kid everything he knew, so he knew all his moves. 

He lifted his lightsaber up, getting ready for a one handed downward strike. Ezra raised his to block. Smirking, Kanan grabbed the grip of Ezra’s lightsaber and pulled it from his hands. He spun behind him and kicked, his foot landing square on the boy’s back. 

His arms waving wildly, Ezra kept himself from falling to the ground. He turned around and glared. “Hey! That’s cheating! You’ve never done anything like that before!” he said. 

Kanan twirled Ezra’s lightsaber, after turning it off, and tossed it over. “You have to be ready for anything,” he replied, shrugging his shoulders. “You were getting too comfortable.”

“So were you,” Hera called down. Kanan looked up at her, offering her a shrug as well. 

“It was a dirty trick!” Ezra said, crossing his arms.

“Want me to show you how I did it?” Kanan asked. He grinned at his student when his eyes lit up. It was good that only Hera was watching them; this trick would be hard to pull off when you’re shorter and Sabine and Zeb would most definitely point that out. He had learned that it wasn’t always good to have the whole family involved with every aspect of Ezra’s training. 

They worked for another half hour, Kanan showing Ezra slowly how to move through the motions of his ‘dirty trick’. Hera left and came back, holding a cup of something as she watched them work. By the end of it, Kanan could see how tired they both were getting.

Stretching his hands up over his head, he smiled down at Ezra. “That’s enough for today,” he said. He walked over to retrieve his discarded shirt. “Go take a shower.”

“Where did you learn a trick like that? It’s not like anything you’ve taught me before,” Ezra asked, not making his way out of the hold. 

Kanan walked over and pushed him gently towards to the exit from the hold. Draping his shirt over his shoulder, he answered, “When you’ve been around the galaxy as much as I have, you pick up a few tricks.”

Ezra threw a skeptical look over his shoulder but allowed himself to be pushed all the way to the ladder. He climbed until he reached the catwalk, stopping to say hi to Hera. 

“You did really well, Ezra,” she said, leaning on her forearms against the railing again. 

“Yeah, but Kanan did better.”

“I thought it was agreed that he cheated.” She smirked as she said this. Kanan, still at the bottom of the ladder, let out an exaggerated sigh. He was all for encouraging Ezra, who did do very well today, but did it have to be at his own expense?

Ezra grinned at her before clambering the rest of the way up the ladder. Kanan started up himself, though he jumped off at the catwalk. He walked over to Hera, leaning his back against the railing. He sighed and threw a look over to her.

“That was an interesting move,” she said. She offered her cup to him, which turned out to be filled with water and still mostly full, and watched him drink from it. “I have a feeling the Jedi didn’t teach it to you.”

“Uh, yeah,” Kanan answered, sheepishly. He held the cup in both hands, resting it against his upper thighs. “Might have picked it up in the rougher years, I don’t really remember where anymore.”

He looked over at her again and found a frown. It wasn’t one of disappointment, which was what he would have gotten in those aforementioned years. It wasn’t one of pity, either. Just sympathy and understanding. He offered a small, tight smile in return.

Then, he looked away. The memories weren’t great, not for either of them. Those were all in the past now, but every now and then something would remind them of who he used to be.

○

Kanan nodded to the bartender and readjusted himself on the stool. The cantina he was in was loud and crowded, just how he liked it. Easy to forget the outside world when you couldn’t even hear yourself think. This was where he felt most at ease, even now.

Half a year on the _Ghost_ now and working for Hera had been good but a huge adjustment. He couldn’t say that he was comfortable yet, they were still learning how to live with each other. He was still learning how to not run after a handful of months in one place. But he really didn’t have any complaints. It was good. It could stay good. 

Plus, Hera was great company. He didn’t want to say goodbye to her just yet. When he stepped onto her ship he had been sure that he wasn’t going to be sticking around too long. Take a couple tours around the galaxy and then be on his way; it was how he rolled. But then days turned into months and they were both somewhat surprised he was still there. Still just crew, still not convinced in her higher purpose, but still there. 

The bartender placed another Flameout in front of him, the third of the night. Kanan tossed the credits for the drink on the bar and then pulled the drink over to him. He took a drink, this time the burn didn’t bother him. His first one of the night hadn’t gone down smoothly, earning him laughs and playful comments from the other patrons. It had been awhile since he had had anything to drink, his longest break from alcohol since joining up with Hera.

He was trying to give it up. To cut back to a more reasonable amount. It didn’t take him long to realize that Hera wasn’t going to tolerate his drinking habits. She hadn’t appreciated that every time they stopped on a planet and he got drunk the moment she didn’t need his help anymore. Crawling back to her ship at late hours, or really any hour he hadn’t been needed, was straining their budding relationship. The fights he’d get into didn’t help him when he argued that nothing was wrong and he was completely in control. She made herself very clear: if he wanted to stay he had to change this. So, he decided that it was time to do just that. Start to change it. He wasn’t thrilled by the idea of giving it up all the way, he still wasn’t convinced there was a problem. Much of a problem. But if he was staying with Hera, which seemed to be what was happening, it wasn’t the biggest sacrifice to make. 

If she noticed how infrequent his drinking had gotten, she hadn’t commented, yet. He hadn’t told her that he was cutting back, as it was. It wasn’t really her business, just a favour in return for her taking him on. She didn’t need to be a part of every aspect of his life. Kanan didn’t need her encouragement. This was something he could do on his own. 

Tonight, however, a drink was what he needed. Hera had gone off on one of her ridiculous revolutionary jobs. He had no idea what she was doing, she had been short with him when he had asked her. It didn’t usually bother him that she kept that part of her life a secret (he still wanted nothing to do with her war), but she could try and give him the benefit of the doubt every once and awhile. Throw him a bone, he was trying to be better for her. She could stand to open up a bit. So, after she had left for her all so secret work—she had ensured him that this wasn’t going to be dangerous—Kanan headed for the cantina. She didn’t need him so he could let loose a little. 

“I can’t believe you’re on your third one,” a voice next to him said. Not just any voice. Kanan turned fully on the stool. One foot was propped up on a higher rung of the stool, so that when he turned his knee pointed outward. It opened up his whole body. A Nautolan man, his huge eyes locked on Kanan’s face (he was pretty sure they were, at least), leaned forward and tapped his green finger on the glass. His finger traced across Kanan’s skin, his hand was still on the glass, before it drew back. “I’d be on the ground by this point.”

Lom Rache. He was gorgeous, his green skin seemed to glow in the low light, a green you could only find out in an ocean. His black eyes were huge and endless. The moment he had entered the cantina Kanan was sure about who he wanted to be spending his evening with, maybe even the night if he was drunk enough to not feel guilty about keeping Hera waiting. The Nautolan had spotted Kanan quickly, as well, and had made his way over almost immediately.

“It’s an art I perfected ages ago,” Kanan said, a smirk spreading on his face. He took hold of the glass and downed a large gulp from it. It was now half empty and the warmth Kanan was feeling surged through his body more. 

“I’m impressed,” Lom said, letting out a whistle. He dropped his hand from the bar but it didn’t return to him. It landed on Kanan’s knee. The pressure was nice and Kanan was surprised by the coolness from the hand; made sense, Lom wasn’t warm blooded. 

“I like to impress.”

“I’m sure you do.”

Both men were smirking now, though Kanan thought that Lom’s face was better suited for genuine smiles. Like Hera. He blinked, getting the thought of her out of his head. He downed the rest of his drink and then leaned on one elbow, bringing his face closer to Lom’s. 

“So, what brings you to the bar tonight, Lom?” he asked. His free hand ghosted against the one on his knee before making its way up the arm. He played with Lom’s sleeve, pushed up to his elbow. “How did I get lucky enough for you to end up here?”

“Does that line ever work?” Lom asked, laughing. There was the genuine smile. Kanan grinned and waggled his hand in the fifty-fifty motion. “Well, I happened to have a good day at work, wanted to see if I could continue that into having a good night.”

“Do you need help?”

“Need is a very strong word,” said Lom. He leaned in, his hand sliding up Kanan’s thigh as he did so. Kanan lifted his head, bringing it in closer, and licked his lips. “But I wouldn’t say no to it.” 

Kanan’s stool jerked underneath him. He sat upright quickly, trying to keep his balance on the fairly rickety seat. He looked over his shoulder and found a tall and much broader human man standing behind him, there was no doubt this guy could easily beat him to a pulp. He glared up at him, anyway. 

“Do you mind?” Kanan grumbled. 

“Do you?” the man sneered. He looked between Kanan and Lom then continued, “No one wants to see that.”

It took him a second to understand what the stranger meant before hot rage began to build in him. “Well, then don’t look. We’re not here to entertain you.”

Grimacing, the man turned away and finished placing his order. Kanan scooted his stool closer to Lom’s, resting his foot on one of the rung on the other stool. It was a sort of barrier, at least in his mind; keep the rest of the bar cut off from them. 

Lom’s hand went back onto Kanan’s leg, squeezing gently. With a sigh, he leaned back to the Nautolan. There was no point focusing on one person trying to ruin your night. And his night was going to be good. 

“It really says something about a human if he can’t get laid by one.” The words were loud, though not near. Glancing out into the cantina’s crowd, Kanan could see the man had gone to join a group of other humans, six of them all together. They were close enough to be heard if they wanted to be, which seemed to be the case.

The hand on his leg squeezed again and Kanan forced himself to look back. Lom was giving him a sympathetic smile. It was clear he was trying to get him to ignore the group. Let it go. Kanan squeezed his eyes shut, taking a deep breath in and letting it out. He could let it go. It was just words, and they weren’t really directed at him. If Lom could ignore it, he could ignore it. 

“Maybe he’s into sampling, get a taste of one exotic thing before finding the next one,” a second voice called out. The whole group was getting involved in this, it seemed.

Kanan tensed completely. He turned back to the group across the cantina. They were all laughing. And openly watching the pair. 

“Hey, look at me.” A hand on his cheek turned his face away from the group of humans. Lom’s kind face, meant for smiling, looked concerned. “Focus on me.”

He nodded. Leaning forward, he placed his hand on the green one holding his face and pulled it away, lacing their fingers together. Focus. Focus. 

“I guess he must have gotten tired of Twi’leks, he needs more alien to fuck.”

It was the original man again, standing at the head of his group. Looking over at him, they made eye contact. The man sneered before joining in the laughter around him. The hot rage that had been building inside had reached its peak and was threatening to spill over. So be it. Kanan wasn’t a Jedi anymore, he no longer had to worry about acting out of anger. 

He slid off his stool. Lom tried to grab his arm, to keep him at the bar, but he easily slipped out of the brief hold on him. He made his way over to the table and grinned. 

“I know it’s tough when not even a mynock will sleep with you, but do you really need to ruin another man’s night?” Kanan asked. He kept eye contact with the man and leaned over the table, resting on one hand. “So, please, piss off.”

“We’re just having a friendly discussion over here,” he replied. He smirked down at him; Kanan was very aware now just how much bigger this man was. “Go back to your pet.”

Kanan had meant it when he told himself that he was going to be be better for Hera. He hadn’t gotten into a fight, well a drunken fight (brawling with stormtroopers didn’t count, Hera paid him for that), in a good number of weeks. But that last drink was still coursing through him and he was feeling it more than he normally would. 

So instead of walking away, and as his smile widened, he punched the man square in the nose.

“Kriff!”

Jumping back from the table, the other five men either stood up or moved around to get ready to come at him. The man with what was most definitely a broken nose now was continuing to swear as he held his bleeding face. 

“Kanan!” Lom’s voice came from behind but he didn’t pay much attention to it. He couldn’t afford to. A fist was flying towards his face. Kanan ducked out of the way and then rammed his shoulder into the oncoming body. Before the two could both fall over, a hand grabbed him and whirled him around. A fist collided with his upper cheek, nearly hitting his eye. Kanan stumbled back. He almost tripped over the guy behind him.

“You’ve got a lot of nerve,” the attacker growled. Behind him, Kanan could see Lom throwing a punch at one of the men. Only one was with Lom, the others were still closing in on him. 

“Yeah, I hear that a lot,” he answered, rubbing his cheek once. He lifted his fists up and got ready for the next hit. He noticed blood on one of his hands but he had no idea whose blood it was.

It came from behind. The man he had tackled kicked at his side. Kanan felt hot pain shoot through him from his ribs as the foot landed. He swore and grabbed the foot, keeping the guy from trying to land another blow. Reaching higher on the leg, Kanan used all his strength to throw the guy as far as he could. 

The second attacker was on him again. Kanan swerved out of the way, catching his foot on the man’s ankle. His elbow collided with his upper back, sending the man to the floor. 

Looking for his next opponent, he spotted a second person going for Lom. Three long strides over, he grabbed the man and turned him around. 

“Hey,” he said, grinning, before hitting his head against the other’s. Not his smartest move, but the guy dropped. Trying to regain his balance from the combination of alcohol and almost blinding pain radiating from the front of his head, he looked around for who was next. 

“You’re dead!” Kanan turned to his left and saw the original guy making his way towards him. Blood was smeared all across his mouth and the front of his shirt. Even dizzy, that made Kanan smile. “Dead!”

“Bring it!” 

Kanan closed the distance and threw a punch at the guy’s face again. His aim was off, his vision was getting blurry. His hand was caught. He howled in pain as it was forced into a pillar they had ended up next to. And then his hand was smacked against the pillar again. 

A single blast from a blaster filled the air of the cantina. Everyone froze. Blinking through the pain, Kanan gauged the situation. Most of the patrons had moved away from the brawl; they had ended up with ample room to pummel each other. Lom had the guy he was dealing with by the collar of his shirt. He looked much better off than Kanan felt. Turning to look at the bar, the source of the blast was obvious.

The bartender had their holdout blaster pointed up (Kanan now saw a half dozen holes in the ceiling, the newest with smoke coming from it). They lowered and pointed it vaguely at the group of men who had just been fighting. “That’s enough,” he said. The blaster then pointed at Kanan. “You.” Then, it moved to Lom. “And you. Out.”

The man who had a hold still on Kanan shoved him away. He swayed as he tried to keep from falling over as he moved. He opened his mouth to respond to the bartender, to argue that this really wasn’t his fault, but a gentle hand on his arm stopped him. Lom, now moving his hand to Kanan’s back, started to steer him to the exit. “That’s enough,” Lom whispered into his ear. 

He leaned against him, letting himself be led out of the cantina. He didn’t need help walking but he couldn’t deny that it felt good to lean again Lom. Once outside the cantina, with the cool air of the night stinging against Kanan’s face, they walked good a block—maybe two, Kanan wasn’t really paying attention anymore—away from the building. Lom stopped when they reached an intersection and looked back, most likely making sure they weren’t being followed by anyone who decided the fight wasn’t actually over. 

“Hey,” Kanan whispered, reaching up and placing a hand on Lom’s cheek. “Sorry about that.”

“You could have just ignored them,” Lom answered. His voice didn’t hold the same playfulness it had earlier. He looked back and it was clear he was disappointed with how things had turned out. With how Kanan had turned out.

“I know.” The answer was mumbled. Kanan cast his gaze down, he didn’t really need to see that look from anyone right now, not when it would be waiting for him back on the _Ghost_. A chuckle escaped him. “You know, I generally try to offer a better time for the people I’m with.”

A sigh filled the air. Kanan rubbed the back of his head and winced—he forgot that this hand was probably broken. 

Cool to the touch, Lom’s hand rested below Kanan’s chin. He was shorter, though not by much, so he didn’t have to look up far to make eye contact with Lom. Brief eye contact, as the large black eyes closed slowly. Kanan took a sharp breath in and winced when his ribs screamed in protest from his lungs expanding, as lips pressed against lips. They both ignored Kanan’s pain. The hand on his chin moved across his face to the back of his head, burying in his hair. His good hand moved to Lom’s waist, pulling him in close.

He draped his other arm over his shoulders, deepening the kiss. This time, Lom gasped. Kanan slipped his tongue into his mouth, breathing in the cooler breath mingling with his own. 

The kiss went on forever and it ended too quickly. Pulling apart, both of them were breathing hard. They were still pressed up against each other, Kanan could feel every miniscule movement from his body. 

“You’re really something, Kanan,” Lom whispered. Kanan swallowed roughly. “But you’re a bit too much for me.” He moved in again, gently placing his mouth against Kanan’s. Then he pulled away, completely letting go, and turned to leave.

Kanan watched Lom walk away until the darkness of the street made him disappear. Forcing himself to move, he turned and began the long walk back to the spaceport. It was a slow process, all of his activities that night were catching up to him. He could still feel the alcohol in his system, which was definitely starting to fade since it was doing nothing to numb the pain all over him. After ten minutes of walking, he stopped to catch his breath and to see where he was. Thankfully the spaceport was visible, if still far off in the distance. 

A wave a dizziness washed over him. He stumbled to the side of the street until his shoulder came in contact with a wall. He shut his eyes, trying to will his body to stay upright. To move forward. He just needed to get back to the ship and then things would be better. 

“Kanan?”

The voice came from behind but he knew immediately who it was. He’d know her voice through even the worst of hazes. Kanan rolled off his shoulder so that his back was on the wall. He didn’t think he’d be able to turn around without the support of the building. He looked to his left and saw Hera standing in the middle of the street. 

“Hey.”

“What…” she started. She walked over to him, her brows furrowing. He didn’t try to hide his face from her, which he knew was going to be the most incriminating aspect of how he looked. He did flinch when her hand brushed against the cheek that had been punched. The sting was worse than he had expected. She swallowed as she studied him. Then, she asked, “Can you walk?”

“I think I’m going to need some help,” he muttered. She nodded. Kanan lifted his right arm up and Hera slotted herself underneath it, helping him drape his arm across her shoulders. He was careful placing his hand, he didn’t want to jostle it too much while they moved. He sucked in a sharp breath when her hand rested on his left side. His ribs were still screaming at him.

“We’ll take it slow,” she said softly. 

“Thank you.”

The walk back was slow. They had to stop twice. Once for him to vomit, which was more painful than Kanan could have anticipated. But Hera stood by him, rubbing his back and neck as he calmed down. The other when he just needed a moment again to catch his breath. Hera stayed under his arm, a hand on his chest to steady him. 

She guided him onto the ship and helped him struggle on the ladder to the upper level of the _Ghost_ as best she could. They finally got to the common room, and Kanan was deposited on the dejarik table while Hera searched for the medkit. 

“So, your face and your side, anywhere else?” Hera asked as she opened up the kit next to him. 

“I think my hand is broken,” he said, offering it over to her. She eyed it before gently working the glove off. Kanan shut his eyes against the pain. 

Hera worked on his hand and his face in silence. She wrapped the hand, smearing it with as much bacta as she could justify, and placed a small bacta patch over a cut under his eye he hadn’t been aware of in the fight. It was after she had helped him get his shirt off so she could gauge how bad his injured ribs were that she decided to ask the inevitable. “What happened tonight?”

Her hands were warm. She had taken her gloves off to work on him. They were now slowly and lightly spreading bacta over his side. Kanan looked down and watched the green hand move across him as he tried to figure out what to tell her. Her touch was cooled some by the bacta but he could feel the warmth from her body underneath.

When she began to wrap his torso, he started. “I need help,” he whispered. He winced as she tightened the bandage. “I need your help. I thought… I thought that I had figured out how to live before I met you, I thought I was doing okay.”

The bandage was secured and they both looked at each other. Kanan wanted to reach out, to pull her in close so he had something to anchor himself to. He felt lost, as though he was drifting off into nothingness. He didn’t reach for her.

“I’m not okay. And I’ve been trying, I’ve been trying to get a handle on this for you,” he said. Her frown deepened. Her lips parted for a moment, some words she suddenly had to offer him rising up, but she quickly shut them again. Kanan looked down. One of her hands was resting on his knee. “I want to be better. I want to be okay. I can’t do another night like this. I don’t want to.”

He tried to keep going but words were escaping him now. What else could he say to her? How he looked spoke for itself. They both knew he needed to change, it was just a question of how to go about it now. Was he going to keep struggling through this, keep making mistakes and letting everyone he met down again and again? Would he just have to give up and accept that he was beyond repair, that the eight years alone had left the damage in him permanently? Was she going to ask him to leave?

The hand on his knee moved and came to rest on his cheek. Her other hand went to the other cheek. Hera lifted Kanan’s face up. She wasn’t frowning anymore but there was no smile there to replace it. He couldn’t read her, he had no idea what she was thinking. He never did, they barely knew each other. So it completely surprised him when her lips brushed against his forehead. 

When she pulled back, she said, “I’ve got you.”

The next day Kanan would tell her what happened at the bar. It wouldn’t go great but they would make it through together. They would plan for how to deal with the temptation he had to turn to, all the vices he had ingrained into his identity. He would take it slow, still hurting from the fight. She would take it slow, not pushing him to change immediately, but keeping him on that slow path of healing. The next day would be followed by another and another.

○

“I’m not sure I approve of you teaching Ezra moves you learned from bar fighting,” Hera said after the moment of silence between them went on too long. Kanan looked over at her and smiled.

Kanan shifted closer to her, turning so that his hip was leaning against the railing now. He reached over and started to trace his fingers against her gloved hand. “I’m not going to make it a habit of teaching him bar fight tricks, promise.” 

“Good.” She moved her hand against his, tracing against him before lacing their fingers together. “Because it really was a dirty trick.”

Kanan smirked and leaned in close to her. He whispered, “I was a dirty guy back then.”

Hera rolled her eyes and pushed against his hand, forcefully enough to make him step back. “Go clean yourself up.”

“Gotta wait for the kid to get out.”

“You stink.”

“Hey, I’m a dirty guy, remember?”

She laughed and gave him another playful shove. Kanan side stepped her attempt and wrapped an arm around her waist. He pulled her up against him, she didn’t try to stop him. Her eyes were glistening up at him, a smirk appearing on her lips. He turned his face and kissed her cheek. “I probably have a little time right now,” he murmured against her skin.

“Nuh-uh,” Hera replied. Her hands snaked between them and pushed against his chest. “You really need that shower.”

“I’ll go, I’ll go,” he said, laughing as he did. He let go of her waist, his hand didn’t linger at all. He readjusted the shirt on his shoulder, it had started to slip off, and turned to the ladder. As he stepped onto it, he looked over his shoulder. “You could join me?” He winked and gave her his best smile.

“Go.” She was smiling still and pointed at the exit to the hold. 

Kanan climbed up, wondering how much time he would give Ezra before he started knocking on the refresher door for him to hurry up. He hoisted himself into the cockpit and headed into the corridor with all their quarters. In his cabin, he tossed his shirt, as well as his belt and holster onto the bed, before smelling under his arm. Hera was right, she always was. He did stink.


End file.
